


Dwelling in Forlorn Luxury

by kuwdora



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: M/M, PWP, Porn Battle, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-26
Updated: 2008-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-27 22:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuwdora/pseuds/kuwdora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd never told Peter his name. Or maybe he did and Peter didn't remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dwelling in Forlorn Luxury

**Author's Note:**

> Porn Battle: Slut!Peter/anyone/everyone, [any]

He showed up at Peter's apartment to express condolences over Nathan's death.

"He was a good man," he said.

Peter was sitting by the window, half-empty glass of whiskey dangling in his hand as he gazed at the sagging rain clouds. They had put Nathan to ground yesterday. Simon and Monty had huddled beneath their mother's umbrella, clutching her hands tightly. His mother had stood beside them, stoic. Her face was chiseled marble in a black dress while rain dribbled down her umbrella, like the tears that she shed only in the company of Peter.

The April showers were just beginning.

"I should go back for him," Peter said, knot tightening in his throat as he tried to swallow the memory with the last bite of whiskey. He stood and walked past him into the kitchen. He uncapped the bottle and threw a look over his shoulder, staring at the man. He was like a void--nothing came, nothing went.

"Your gift is a great responsibility," he intoned quietly. The obliqueness rubbed Peter the wrong way.

"What are you really doing here?" Peter said, setting the bottle down with a hard thunk.

Unwavering eyes stared at him. "I want to apologize. I've treated you unfairly in the past."

"Why?" Peter asked.

Consideration passed over his features as he averted his eyes and adjusted the cuff of his jacket. He turned and walked into the living room, stepping over dirty laundry and bags of potato chips. He straightened his shoulders as the first rain droplets began to pelt the glass. "I was misled," he said.

"But _why_?" Peter asked, following him. He didn't understand how the man was so full of answers that weren't really answers.

"I thought I was protecting you," he said, sounding lost in contemplation. He crossed his arms at his wrists and gazed down at the desk.

Peter followed his gaze to the framed photograph of he and Nathan. "Protecting me? From what?"

"Your mother. Your brother," he said simply. His words hung in the air.

"I don't understand," Peter said, frustration sharp in his voice.

He turned to Peter his eyes searching Peter's face before looking at Peter's throat. He reached out and touched the symbol that still adorned Peter's neck--a mark that Peter never really understood. After everything that's happened, the flying--Kirby Plaza, The Company, Adam... Nathan... Peter still didn't understand anything. He could cope with not understanding, as long as he had his brother to ground him. But now he didn't even have that.

"Godsend," he whispered, as if it was the only explanation necessary. He gently pressed the symbol into Peter until it made a slight indentation on his skin. Peter swallowed. The man's thumb traced the symbol and inched along Peter's collarbone, sending shivers through Peter's body.

Peter's eyes widened. He pulled the man's large hand away from his neck, but held it firmly in his grasp.

He stared into the man's eyes. "What aren't you telling me?"

He twined his fingers into Peter's.

 

He didn't tell Peter his name. Or maybe he did and Peter doesn't remember. But Peter did remember how the man's muscled chest felt against his back, his lips on his neck. He filled Peter with heat and pressure, his thrusts languorous while he took his time to come. When the shudder of his orgasm rippled through both their bodies, his large hands splayed across Peter's chest and abdomen, holding him as if he was a cherished memory.


End file.
